New Assassins in Rome
by Swordmaster Sion
Summary: This story was inspired by the creators of the PPC, and Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood. This is what happens when you let a bunch of bored assassin fantards run around in the Renaissance. Let's just say, it's bad... BAD... news.
1. Chapter 1

**NOTICE: Ren and I do not own Assassin's Creed, in any form, aside from this little story. All credit goes to Ubisoft for making such an amazing game series.**

Also: The San in this story is not related to Princess Mononoke. But she was INSPIRED by it.

~~~~~

_~CHAPTER ONE: OF ANIMUSES AND ASSASSINS_

All was quiet in the room; no alarms were blaring, which meant trouble for the Bad Character Assassination Department, as a minute without Terrible Character Alerts meant something even worse was going to happen.

And, as the universe in which this department existed goes, it did so in comedic fashion.

HQ frequently suffered the paradoxical backlash of universe hopping, simply because tampering with worlds that weren't one's own was dangerous in all forms, and the repeated opening and closing of universe-hopping portals caused a ripple in the fabrics of existence which amounted to a 5.0 earthquake. But that was all child's play compared to what the BCAD did when they got bored:

Hop around universes and generally screw with the story for shits and giggles.

Particularly guilty of this crime were Sion and Ren, two rookie Assassins who used to be OCs from dead worlds who had landed in their current home and became Bad Character Assassins as compensation. They didn't just world hop uncontrollably; they also went out of their way to make sure and mess up every possible thing in the world they were in before moving on.

Today, the two Assassins decided that given the slow day before them, a proper dicking around was in order.

"...So, which world?" Sion asked, cradling his prized sword - which had a hard-to-pronounce name - close while he cleaned it.

"Oh, hell, I don't know. Maybe we'll pop over to the Death Star and put jello in Vader's helmet?" Ren replied, not once looking up from his alchemy notebook, making small edits to his formulas here and there.

"Fuck that! Don't you know what happened last time somebody pulled that crap?" Sion exclaimed in horror. Indeed, the memory of one's face melting off was still fresh in many of the staff's mind, most particularly the Department of Unfortunate Injuries, whose main job was to treat unfortunate injuries received by Assassins and Special Units, like the perilous Canon-Sue Romance Destruction Unit, who once broke up a romance between a Goddess and Tidus of Spira and suffered the consequences.

"Oh, right," Ren grumbled, also recalling several incidents. "Well, we could always fight Mimics with the JDF."

"Okay, Ren?" the young lady on the couch said, suddenly looking up from her Team Fortress 2 match. "You know what happens when you put Sion in a computerized suit of armor."

"Dammit, San!" Ren growled. "So what if he can't pilot a Jacket properly! He's a bloody idiot anyhow!"

San rolled her eyes and returned to her game. Having had her soul ripped out of her universe when a Unit teleported out of her universe, she had long since grown used to the common nuances and ridiculousness of her new co-workers, so Ren's frequent outbursts of frustration rarely phased her.

"Hey! I got one!" Sion said after a moment of silence.

"If it involves Calvin and Hobbes-" Ren started.

"What? Oh GOD, no, I was talking about Assassin's Creed!" Sion replied quickly.

"...Oh, this should be interesting," San said, looking up from her game again.

"Right, so I was thinking, what if we did a world hop to Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood, and just dicked around under the guise of Assassin Recruits?" Sion suggested, eyes glittering with anticipation and, frighteningly, glee.

"You're just in it for the cool swords, aren't you?" Ren said, with emotionless monotone.

Ren and Sion had been partners for years; all Sion ever cared about was the badass weaponry, from swords and guns to lasers and bombs, Sion would instantly jump at the chance to wield them in combat. In truth, it made sense that he would love weapons so much, especially swords; before his world died, Sion was the legendary Swordmaster, a being so adept at combat that it was said the gods themselves had taken a human guise. Some stories even stated that Swordmasters were remnants of the Immortal Ishvari race. In Sion's case, he was - Immortality included. And because he dealt with swords, knives, axes, staves, morningstars, and other what-have-yous so often, he had grown a particular love for all things lethal weaponry. The rest of the BCAD had affectionately dubbed Sion "The Weapon Derpmeister".

"Oh, totally," Sion replied without hesitation, brandishing his sword, Ishuverandu, menacingly, at the wall. If walls could cower in fright, that one would have done so.

"How did I guess?" Ren said, not even the slightest bit surprised with his partner's answer. "Well, if we're going, we might as well bring San with us, too. I mean, god only knows that we'd need her help with something along the way."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," San said, shutting off her game and getting off the couch.

"Yeah, seriously, Ren. It's no worse than Archer and Caroline 'helping' us on missions where more than one Unit is required," Sion chimed in.

"Shut the fuck up, both of you," Ren hissed, pointing over at their commanding officers - Caroline, the Leader, Archer, the Right Hand, and Kestler, the team Spy. Sion and Ren's immediate subordinate, Jacob, was also sitting nearby, playing Pokemon on his DS, but nobody seemed to care much of his existence.

Sion looked over, thoughtfully. "Let's see if we can have our fun without them interrupting this time," he said, pressing the button to open the portal.

"Agreed," Ren said, stepping through. Sion and San followed suit.


	2. Chapter 2

**NOTICE: Ren and I do not own Assassin's Creed in any way, shape, or form, aside from this little story. All credit goes to Ubisoft, for making such an epic game series.**

Also: It says in this story that I animate us into our uniforms. I can't draw, just so you know. I just like to make-believe, dammit.

~~~~~

_~CHAPTER 2: THIS IS A CONTINUATION OF CHAPTER ONE, DERP_

A portal opened in the broken and moss-covered, but still in-use Colosseum of Rome, and Sion, Ren, and San all stepped out. Ren immediately found a problem.

"Sion, we're still in our uniforms."

"What?" Sion said, not paying attention. Suddenly snapping out of it, he said, "Oh, right, right, hang on."

Like an artist with a sketch pad, Assassin uniforms slowly materialized around the three, line by line, until each was wearing a white hood over white robes, one shoulder covered by a white cape, protected by light leather armor, boots, gloves, and shoulder pads. Each had a small, concealed knife in their bracers (though Sion's was mysteriously inverse, and Ren had two), a sword at their hips (disregarding the one strapped to Sion's back, Ishverandu), a knife in their belts, and a belt of knives around their waists.

"Damn," Ren said, looking at his new wardrobe, "You're not half bad at this, Sion."

"In reality, I'm terrible. Thank god I had the foresight to install an A.I. in my pencil to help me out," Sion replied, sliding his metallic-looking and glowing pencil away in his shirt pocket.

"So, what now?" San asked.

"Well, I guess we could just explore around a bit," Ren said, shrugging.

"Or we could stop that guy Ezio's chasing over there," Sion said, pointing at the figure in red and black running away from the Master Assassin himself, Ezio Auditore.

San charged forward without warning and tackled the messenger, mercilessly breaking his neck to finish, and then ducking out of sight as Ezio rounded the corner.

"Remind me to never piss her off," Ren whispered to Sion.

"Don't ever piss her off," Sion whispered back.

"Thank you."

San returned to the Fantastic Duo, and the three ran off as Ezio located the dead messenger and looked around for the assailant.

~~~

_ISOLA TIBERINA, CENTRO DISTRETTO, ROMA_

"Oh, god _damn_," Ren said, noting the miserable state of the area around him. It wasn't more than two steps later that Sion heard somebody groan out a weak "_Diiiiioooooo..."_, and then another two steps brought forth a trio of poor women begging for money. Sion cut his own purse off and tossed it to one of the beggars who was standing on the roadside.

"_Il dio lo benedice, amico,_" the man said as a tearful smile crept across his face.

"Dude, this is fucking depressing," Sion said as the three continued on through the run-down and decrepit district, observing the sorry state of the people who lived in it.

"That's the Borgia for you: Massive fucking dicks," Ren replied, a touch of disapproval entering his tone.

"Hey, isn't that a blacksmith over there?" San asked, momentarily forgetting why, exactly, nobody ever mentioned the words "Black" and "Smith" in the same sentence around Sion.

"_Get the fuck out my way!_" Sion screamed, grappling Ren and San into the wall as an evil grin plastered his face.

"Way to go, fuckface," Ren said sourly as Sion, having properly scared the crap out of the Blacksmith, came walking back with a bunch of swords, and one axe - a bearded axe, specifically.


	3. Chapter 3

(Author's Note[s]: Before you continue with the story, a little explanation is necessary here:

- This is meant to be comedic. So don't get too pissed off if things come off as stupid, Mary Sue-ish, simple-minded, or badly written. I'm kinda' doing it on purpose for the sake of ironic comedy. Probably a bad move on my part, but it's fuuuuuuun...

- Ren is my co-author, and a good friend of mine. He, my sister, a Scottish kid named Leigh, a pair of twins named Luke and Eli, and all other characters except for Miranda, who is mentioned later, are all real people. And so am I. I kinda' went overboard on the character list. Sorry.

- As mentioned, this story was inspired by the Protectors of the Plot Continuum and Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood. So, be expecting some wackiness in Ezio's world.

- I'm trying not to be a Mary-Sue character, but there are elements in the following and previous chapters that may lead one to believe that I am. Sorry about that, too – the Sion in this story is also the epic superhero Sion of my yet-unposted Swordmaster Sion story, which will be on my DeviantART page for you to see when it IS posted.

Aside from that, enjoy the next few chapters! =3)

**Notice: Ren and I do not own Assassin's Creed, in any form, aside from this little story. All credit goes to Ubisoft and their associates for making such an amazing series.**

Psh, you can keep your hair, Willow, I whip my BEARDED FUCKING _**AXE**_** back and forth, bitch.**

~~~~~

_CHAPTER 3: CHAPTASSASSIN'S CREED: BROTHERHOOD, DERP._

Having loaded down everybody (or more specifically, himself) with weaponry, Sion happily skipped over to other shops of necessity, such as the doctor's shop he'd thought to renovate for the sake of having an accessible doctor's shop on hand. The doctor saw the walking human tank approaching him and prayed to several deities - the Catholic God included, of course - that he wasn't about to be speared in the face with one of the swords strapped to the strange man's waist.

Thankfully, all Sion needed was medicine, with which the doctor was only too happy to part, for the sake of getting the three homicidal maniacs away from him. It was bad enough that he was out in the cold wearing a heavy wax cloak, he didn't need to be smacked around by thugs in the process.

Sion was reasonably surprised with how many forms of a brutal mercenary one doctor could apply to him.

"So, since we're here... what say we try and find the Assassin's hideout and see if we can trick Ezio into letting us go on missions with him?" Ren suggested.

"'Kay. Look for a reasonably sized, yet unassuming building," Sion said, completely unaware that such a structure was directly behind him... and that Ezio had just walked in the front door.

Thankfully, San noticed, and she promptly dragged the two dorks with her into the hideout.

For whatever reason, the door was unlocked. And it also appeared that the Renaissance had invented air-compression door hinges, as the heavy wooden portal closed - loudly - behind them, causing Ezio to go on high alert. San, Sion and Ren didn't even try to hide, but simply put up their hands in surrender.

Ezio, not willing to take any chances - especially not after what had happened to Mario and the Villa Auditore, _and_ Monteriggioni - Made no move to approach them, but made no move to lower his arms.

"_Chi sono voi?_" Ezio shouted.

Ren shot Sion a pointed look.

"Whoops, sorry, forgot to turn on my language translator..." Sion pushed a button under his robes, and suddenly Ezio was speaking slightly-accented English, with only a few bits of Italian here and there due to glitches.

"I asked who you were, answer me, _fottitori!_" Ezio growled. Despite being somwhere in his early to mid-forties, he still hadn't dropped his childish vocabulary. Then again, neither had the rest of Italy, nor had Sion, Ren, or San.

"Jesus Christ, man, relax!" Sion said, obviously strung out by Ezio's hostility. "We're on your side!"

"I have a hard time believing that," Ezio snarled. "Your hands aren't marked, and I've been betrayed before!"

"Yeah, we know what happened at Monteriggioni," Ren interjected, clearly in no mood to go up in fisticuffs (or, hidden-blade-icuffs, as it were) with a Master Assassin.

Ezio was taken aback by this. "How could you have known about the attack?"

"Oh, it's quite simple," Sion said, holding up a sheaf of papers. Their contents were the entire plot of Brotherhood, as he had gotten bored and decided to hand-write the whole game. His wrist was wrapped up for weeks.

Ezio took the papers and squinted. The Ishvirandu language was equal parts foreign and indecipherable. Roughly translating just the simplest part of the whole transcript would leave you with some sort of complicated math problem, and translating further would leave you with a few words and gibberish. Ren had learned how to translate Sion's writing, so he helped Ezio read parts here and there.

"Dio mio," Ezio breathed, having finished reading Sion's entire account of past and future events in Ezio's life. "This is incredible!"

"And that's about where the special part about us comes to a complete halt," San said. "Now, we're just bumbling idiots in Assassin uniforms. Oh, and Sion's invincible, but that's another story."

"Invincible?" Ezio asked, staring at Sion in a confused manner.

"As in, watch this," Ren said. He then extended one of his hidden blades and swiftly sliced Sion's throat with it. Blood sprayed across the room as Sion's hands flew to the gash, trying to staunch it in vain. His robes stained a dark red as blood leaked down his chest, and as his eyes rolled back into his head, Sion's dead body flopped to the ground, twitching as the muscle tissue slowly died.

"_Che cosa voi pensano state facendo?_" Ezio screamed, attempting to charge Ren, but being blocked off by San.

"Just watch. It should happen right about now," Ren said, unperturbed.

Out of nowhere, a badly-pixelated picture of god with what appeared to be a purple crystal ball appeared over Sion's body, and an even worse sound byte of a man saying "RISE FROM THE GRAAAAAAVE" was heard echoing off the walls.

The image disappeared, and Ezio nearly lost it as he saw what happened next.

Sion's eyes snapped open and rolled into place. The irises turned a deep shade of purple, and from his eyes all across his body, strange purple markings appeared, a slight glow to them. Despite the open and actively bleeding wound, Sion got to his feet as if he was just waking up from a nap, and had a grin on his face that suggested he didn't notice the giant, bloody gash across his windpipe. Then, that gash started to heal, rapidly, further grossing Ezio out. Eventually, it was gone, leaving only a blood-stained, glowing, but otherwise unharmed, Sion standing with a dorky grin on his face.

Ezio barely managed to choke out a feeble "What in the name of God-?"

"One word, bro: Ishvirandu. We can die, but we come back to life, and it hurts like hell afterwards," Sion said, his vocal cords completely intact despite the brutal attack Ren delivered.

"Are you some form of God?" Ezio croaked, leaning against a pillar to keep from falling on his ass in awe.

"Uh, well, our race is either Gods or just Really Damn Impressive Illusionists," Sion said, shrugging. About that time, the purple markings began to fade, and his eyes had reverted to their natural blue state. "Oh yeah, and it wears off after a while," he added, noting Ezio's increasingly horrified look.

Half expecting Ezio to faint, San moved to have her hands ready in case he keeled over. This snapped him out of his shock and into a self-preservative state, and he whipped around, grabbed San's wrists, and dropped her to her knees, thereby disabling her.

"Dude, relax. We already went over being on your side," Ren said, annoyed at Ezio's failure to comprehend their words. "We just want to help get rid of the Borgia. I mean, have you SEEN what kind of shit is happening outside your front door?"

"_Sì,_ I am perfectly aware of what's going on," Ezio snapped.

"Good to know. So, you're after Rodrigo, but moreso Cesare, yes?" Ren asked.

"Yes."

"But they're too heavily guarded by the Papal armies and far too well-prepared with their own special weaponry and armor for you to launch any form of counter-attack without you being slaughtered at the gates, along with the skeleton remains of your Brotherhood's power base, yeah?"

"...Yes..."

"And this is compounded by the complete and utter oppression of the Roman people, along with the capture and imprisonment of Duchess Caterina Sforza of Forli, who is a valuable ally to you, and would surely be killed if word of your movements got to the Borgia, and the forceful employment of your dear friend and, personally, my absolute favorite artist, Leonardo Da Vinci, to create said weapons and armor that they are well-prepared with, correct?"

Ezio said nothing at this. Ren was right on all accounts.

"Right," Ren said with finality, "then it would be in your best interests to start recruiting while you're still invisible to the public eye. Strike a few minor points here and there, so that the baddies don't take notice, but silently recruit allies to your cause from the lowest peasant to whatever form of monarchy you can persuade, until you've silently amassed such an army as to strike back at the Borgia. You can start with us; we're well-equipped and capable in combat, and you might find our improvised tactics to be elegant weapons for a more modern age." Ren used modern to refer to the present time period, so as to not give anything about what universe he came from away.

"How do I know you won't be persuaded by the Borgia?" Ezio asked.

"Let's put it this way," Sion said, "The Assassins and Templars fight for the same goal: World peace. But, they do it in radically different forms: One with domination, the other with silent, strategical retaliation against oppression. One is secure in its power, while the other is silently cutting the strings holding the proverbial balloons of influence to their power structure until the structure is weak enough to attack. The Assassins are the strategic rebels, and I prefer guerrilla tactics, secrecy, and small, unassuming groups of people making trouble on the side to walking around believing myself to be a god, only to get killed later when I least expect it."

Ezio was, needless to say, impressed. "I'm sure Machiavelli would love to have words with you on this matter," he said admirably.

"Yeah, well, the conversation wouldn't last long, let's say that," San said, getting to her feet, despite Ezio's strong grip forcing her down. "We're not exactly your modern-day philosophers, if you get my drift."

Ezio cast the three of them glances and finally said, "Alright, I give. What is our first order of business?"


End file.
